NOI: A Guest Post

Written on June 27; edited and published on July 24, with pictures added gratuitously now that Brooke is not around to censor me:

We interrupt our regularly scheduled NOI programming for a special feature post.

Brooke is my band camp friend.
Brooke is my personality doppelganger.
Brooke is here with me to co-write a guest blog post.


First, a little introduction. I met Brooke on my first day here at NOI (which we affectionately call "band camp"), and the thing that made the biggest immediate impression on me was the fact that her husband is the bass trombonist in the President's Own Marine Band. I thought that was cool. Also, I thought that maybe I could use her in some way to promote my own career and try to attain my dream job of playing in a military string ensemble. No luck on that front so far, but I'm working on it.

Brooke says she knew she liked me when she heard me call the music festival "band camp;" most violinists take themselves way too seriously, and I, on the other hand, don't take myself seriously at all. Over the ensuing days and weeks, we began to notice all kinds of things we had in common. Most obvious was the fact that we spend 99% of our time and conversations joking, being sarcastic, or exaggerating in the extreme. In fact, we quickly had to develop a code word to denote the times that we're not exaggerating.

Our word? "Foliage."

Yes, we borrowed Michael Scott's "safety word" from the television show The Office. We use it in a different context, obvi.

In fact, sarcasm, humor, and exaggeration is such a normal part of our daily lives that we wonder how people who don't laugh constantly and exaggerate everything have any meaning in their lives at all. Why do they get out of bed in the morning? Why would someone use the word "literally" when what they actually mean is, well, "literally"? It boggles our minds. To us, "literally" clearly means, "I am about to say something so extreme that the only thing that could make it more extreme is claiming that it's literal."

Needless to say, we love to laugh. Here's Brooke laughing:


As the days went by, we discovered other similarities. For one thing, neither of us can whisper particularly effectively. Brooke only learned to whisper at all last year, and is still trying to perfect her newfound ability. I always thought I could whisper, but Nathan tells me my attempts are quite unsuccessful. As you can imagine, things with the two of us can get a little noisy. We periodically try to bring the decibel level down, but it never lasts for long.

For another thing, neither of us can walk in a straight line. Whenever I walk places with Nathan he has to remind me, "Hey baby, you're running me off the sidewalk." Brooke has a veering tendency as well, with the result that we're very understanding about the fact that we're constantly bumping into each other as we walk.

A few other similarities: neither of us are affected by caffeine, we're both married to extraordinarily talented and smart men, and we like dramatic words like "literally" and "horrified."

Now that I've introduced my personality doppelganger, I am going to turn the computer over to Brooke and let her begin her career as a blogger.

********

Hi, this is Brooke. Sarah is a lot like me, so when we are together I realize just how annoying I am; I have truly developed a lot of empathy for my husband here at band camp. Just kidding! I must say that Sarah is, second only to myself, the most amazing person in the world. Foliage literally! OK not really foliage literally, for as much as Sarah exaggerates, I am still the only one of us that regularly misuses our code word in an attempt to take exaggeration to new heights.

Neither of us takes ourselves seriously, which sometimes leads others to believe we may be less accomplished than we actually are. However, we are actually both VERY accomplished and brilliant, just so you know.

During the first week of band camp people were always coming up to us and saying, "You guys knew each other before, right?" and we had to reply, "No, sadly we have gotten this obnoxiously close in just three days."

I would like to share with you guys a special story that happened just the other day. Sarah and I were hanging out in my room when she suddenly decided to lie on my bed. I approved of the idea and jumped in beside her. I wasn't sure how she would react, but thankfully she seemed completely comfortable, and we continued our gabbing and laughing side by side. Soon enough I forgot that we were in a slightly compromising position, and exclaimed "I have an idea for something we could do! You might not want to, but just hear me out." Sarah's face turned to a look of horror and she began laughing uncontrollably and declared, "My heart is jumping out of my chest! I'm so afraid of where you're going with this!" Realizing the horror of my statement, I also began laughing uncontrollably and couldn't catch a breath to explain myself for about three full minutes (foliage literally this time for real). When I finally gained composure I blurted out my original intention: "I thought we could go get bubble tea." Needless to say, we immediately jumped out of bed and got ourselves to the nearest Asian beverage establishment.

********

Okay, it's Sarah again. Isn't Brooke fun?

Here's us trying out the MK&A look {that's Mary-Kate and Ashley, for those unaware...}


{Brooke is good at this look. I totally fail.}

Here we are with Ting-Ting! We love Ting-Ting!


And with Rachel! (On my birthday. At the frozen yogurt place. YES.)


With Mary!


And here we are in front of a very yellow wall:


Before we finish this post, I want to share with you an idea the two of us had. Because our personalities are so similar and tend to amplify one another, we've been faced more fully with our own weirdness, and we also tend to feed off of one another and escalate the level of crazy. Yesterday we came up with a great idea. We were discussing the fact that, since we don't go to the wild band camp parties that occur frequently, and because we're both married, perhaps people think we're Mormon. And thus our brilliant idea was born: before the end of band camp, we are determined to find some situation in which we can tell someone here, with a straight face, that we are sister wives. We'd love to see the look on someone's face when we said, "Well, Margaret's taking good care of our husband at home, but we're really looking forward to getting back to him."

We even tried taking a sister wives picture after a concert one night, with Brooke's husband Daniel. But the "adoring gazes" version just ended up with us cracking ourselves up:


So we just smiled like normal people:


Here we are with Carrie (whose sister Hannah is a fellow blogger), who came up to the two of us and said, "I need a picture with the sister wives!"


{Edited post-NOI to add: We did try telling this sister wife story to a few people, and while they didn't believe us, they did think it was funny.}

And with that, which really sums up so much of what Brooke and I are all about -- in terms of humor, not marital goals -- we will bid you all a good night.

Wait... first we will add in a conversation we just had:

Sarah: What's your least favorite thing about me?
Brooke: I can't possibly think of just one. What's your least favorite thing about me?
Sarah: The fact that it takes you literally twenty minutes to wash your hands.
Brooke: Well, my favorite thing about you is that you're like me. We have a similar sense of humor. I like it because it makes me feel more normal.
Sarah: My favorite thing about you is the way you snort when you laugh.
Brooke: Thanks, jerk.


We love each other so much.

NOI, Day 30: The Final Day

It's technically already Sunday as I write this. Our final concert is over, and as NOI draws to a close, everyone has been standing outside the dorm hanging out for hours. Since I had a nice long nap this afternoon, I'm not really tired yet and enjoyed talking to some people before coming inside to finish my packing. I'll be able to sleep in tomorrow, since we don't have to check out until noon.

This morning we had the usual Saturday morning dress rehearsal. Our conductor was so pleased, and declared that we had improved exponentially since our first rehearsal on the Brahms and Stravinsky this past Monday. It's true; our first rehearsal was a bit disastrous. Up until today I was pretty worried about this program, but somehow we pulled things together.

Someone posted a picture of the orchestra rehearsing earlier this week to an NOI facebook group. You'll be pleased to know that you can see my back. Pretty exciting. {I'm sitting third chair in the first violins. The one in the yellow cardigan.}


In rehearsal this morning, working on Stravinsky's Rite of Spring, our conductor declared, "Eez not aggressive enough! Eez too polite. Your parents would be very proud, certainly, but this is not good for Stravinsky!" Funny. The conductor definitely grew on me throughout the week. I think he loosened up as the week went on, and became more personal with all of us, even cracking some jokes.

The concert this evening ended up going pretty well. As we began the first movement of the Brahms, I was overcome by a sense of how lucky I am, that I get to play great music like this, that this is my life.





I think it's some of the most beautiful music ever written.

There was a reception following the concert, and everyone took lots of photos, despite the horrendous lighting in the reception hall. I'll post more later, but for now, here's one of me and Brooke.


After the concert and reception came the first of the good-byes: Brooke and Ting-Ting both left! We were all sad to say goodbye, but it's good to live in an age of email, texting, and facebook. It makes staying in touch much easier.

Brooke and I have co-written a blog post. {The fact that it is awesome probably goes without saying.} I'll be publishing it soon after I get home.

Home. Home! Homehomehome. I can't wait.

NOI, Day 29

Today we had five hours of orchestra rehearsal, but I'm still feeling that as a group things aren't quite ready for the concert tomorrow night. Hopefully tomorrow morning's dress rehearsal will work some magic!

Our conductor's Italian accent continues to charm people. "Strings-a and woodwinds-a..."

I love it.

Today he was much more energizing than he has been in previous days this week. He had all of us laughing a few times.

"Strings-a, these pizzicato notes-a are accompaniment-a! I want-a 'plom, plom, plom,' and you give me 'pluck, pluck, pluck,' like guitars-a in a pizzeria!"

And:

"If you ever practice with a singer -- and I hope-a you don't -- you'd see that she'd sing the phrase in-a this way..."

{For those not in the know, musicians like to make fun of singers at least as much as we enjoy a good viola joke.}

Aside from rehearsals today, I warmed up for about 30 minutes this morning, and other than that, didn't even pretend to practice. We had a two-hour lunch break during which I certainly could have practiced, but chose to enjoy one last falafel wrap from the student-run organic food co-op here on campus. (Their mantra is "Food for People, Not for Profit.")


This is the best food in the world. Crumbled falafel, hummus, lemon tahini, spinach, sprouts, tomato, and onion. The perfect lunch, and only a five-minute walk from the music building.

After lunch, Brooke and I lay down on the wide windowsills in one of the hallways of the music building and lounged for a while. We talked about music, and Brooke mentioned seeing the comment on my blog about a teacher telling a student, "Did you think that sounded good? Because it didn't." She thought this was quite excellent, and declared, "I hope someday I'm good enough that I can say something like that to someone!"

I replied, "Well, if you keep lying around like this, I'm sure you'll get there."

And then we laughed for about five minutes. We crack ourselves up.

As things are winding down, it's clear that everyone's tired. The 7:00 am practice sessions aren't happening so much these days. Neither are the 10:00 pm ones. Quite a few students here are headed straight from here to other festivals, and I can't imagine how they can have the energy for it! I for one have enjoyed being here, but am now really looking forward to going home.

After today's rehearsals, Brooke, Kristine, Ting-Ting, and I drove to Bethesda to pick up a dozen cupcakes from the Georgetown Cupcake location there. Brooke spoke so highly of these infamous cupcakes that we had to try some before we all leave for our respective homes.

Here's our assortment of Chocolate PB Chip, Lava Fudge, Lemon Blossom, Coconut, Red Velvet, and Chocolate Hazelnut cupcakes:


I ate a Chocolate PB Chip one:



The cupcake was really good, but the frosting was the really amazing part. {And I'm not usually a frosting kind of girl.}

In full disclosure, I also ate a quarter of a lemon blossom cupcake and a third of a chocolate hazelnut one. Yes, I'm a little embarrassed.

I'll leave you with a funny little story from Brooke, in keeping with the recent themes of exhaustion and food:

"When I woke up from my nap I noticed a yogurt-covered pretzel was in my bed with me, and I was hungry, so I ate it. Then when I got up I found white stuff all over my shirt and realized I must have slept on the pretzel!"

That pretty accurately sums up the level of fatigue around here, and also perhaps demonstrates our occasional desperation when it comes to food. As Brooke puts it, "Let's get bubble tea! Food is our only joy in life right now." {A joke, but there is something about bubble tea -- one of our favorite indulgences -- that makes the practice hours a bit more pleasant.}

Tomorrow is our final concert, and after that... HOME!

NOI, Day 28

Day 28! Two more days until I get to drive home and see Nathan! I'm really glad I decided to come to NOI (I should say more about that later; back in May, I almost decided not to come!), but I'm so ready to go home.

Today we rehearsed the Stravinsky (Rite of Spring) and the Brahms (Symphony No. 2). The Stravinsky basically requires counting like mad through rapidly changing time signatures, and while it's certainly "trickier," I think the Brahms is much more difficult. I was practicing my part this evening and wondering at the fact that we played this symphony at Gordon College when I was an undergraduate. I loved some things about Gordon -- mostly my violin teacher, who taught primarily at NEC but also took a couple of students at Gordon back then -- but it definitely doesn't have a conservatory-level music department by any means. In fact, the orchestra brings in ringers ("mentors") to fill out the sections because there aren't enough students for a symphony orchestra. How ever did we manage to play Brahms 2? And why does it seem harder to me now than it did then? It's so hard to play all the string crossings perfectly rhythmically and with a good quality of sound. The infamous excerpt from the first movement is incredibly difficult to play beautifully and with precision.

We also had a lecture to attend today, given by the former president and CEO of the Philadelphia Orchestra. I thought the whole thing was sort of a waste of time. He talked about the different kinds of orchestra jobs we all might end up winning, and how to negotiate these jobs once we do (inevitably? hah!) obtain them. Students kept raising their hands with questions like, "What do I do if I win a big orchestra job while I'm still in school?" Or, "What do I do if I win a job with the Orlando Philharmonic, but then I win a job with the Philadelphia Orchestra and want to take that one instead?" Maybe I'm just enormously cynical, but I had to suppress a laugh. Isn't that getting a bit ahead of yourselves, my friends? Winning a job while you're an undergrad? Winning not one job but two jobs? Let's be realistic here. These aren't the kinds of "problems" that most musicians encounter!

(For those non-orchestral-musicians reading my blog, you might enjoy a post from Hannah: Orchestra Auditions for Non-Musicians. It gives a taste of what really goes on in the audition circuit, and all that goes into winning a coveted orchestra job. Violinista also shared her thoughts on the subject here.)

The guy giving the lecture was refreshingly honest about the difficulty of landing an orchestra job, though, and tried to bring some of the students in the room a little more down-to-earth. He encouraged people to be versatile and take a multi-faceted approach to building their careers. He also said some ridiculous stuff, though, like that it was impossible to be successful without a website in today's world. Part of me wanted to raise my hand and say, "Hey, I make a living as a musician. I have 35 students right now, and freelance with five per-service orchestras as well as playing other gigs as they arise. And I don't have a website."

On the topic of auditions and orchestra jobs, being at NOI has definitely given me some food for thought. On the one hand, I'm happy doing the teaching and freelancing I currently do, and truly feel lucky to be doing those things for a job. And I'm more than a little skeptical that everyone here who's hoping to land a big orchestra job will actually be able to accomplish that. (Although of course I'll be happy for them if they do!)

But then a little voice inside me says, "If they have even a chance, then maybe you have a chance, Sarah Marie."

I don't know if I'd have a chance or not. And if I did, I'm not even sure if I'd want to take that chance or not. It could mean dozens of auditions, and dozens of rejections. Maybe it would be worth it, or maybe it wouldn't. But now's a good time to think about whether I might want to try or not. And if I never even try to take any orchestra auditions, am I selling myself short? Will I look back someday and regret it?

I'm not saying everyone has to want an orchestra job. On the contrary, those who know me know that I don't think that way at all. I really love the teaching I do, and the little regional orchestras I play in!

It's just eye-opening to be surrounded by other players who are looking towards that one goal, and to work with professional orchestra players who assume about all of us here that what we all want is an orchestra job. Honestly, it's not sometime I spend a lot of time thinking about. I'm pretty content. But it's good to be challenged to consider: Am I doing what I do because it's my ultimate goal and dream, or is there something more or slightly different that I might like to strive after?

Or, as Kathleen Kelly says in You've Got Mail, "I lead a small life - well, valuable, but small - and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven't been brave?"

NOI, Day 27

Hmm, I probably shouldn't blog so late at night. I end up doing things like sharing my deep thoughts on conductors' pants.

Today we had a masterclass with the concertmaster of the Baltimore Symphony, who's been here coaching sectionals for the first violins and also playing in the section at times to offer guidance. Kristen, who played in the masterclass, asked him if using an open A string in a certain passage in a Beethoven excerpt was acceptable. He answered that of course it was, and all of us in the room smiled and sort of giggled. You see, the concertmaster of the Detroit Symphony, who was here for the second week of the festival doing coachings, sectionals, and masterclasses, instructed us quite emphatically that open strings were never acceptable in orchestral playing (except for G, of course), and even Mozart and Beethoven ought to be played in fourth position to avoid open strings at all costs. Since her time here, pretty much every other visiting faculty member has contradicted that advice.

First, the associate concertmaster of the National Symphony said last week, "Oh, you hear sometimes these rumors about concertmasters who won't let anyone in their section use open strings, but I've never met anyone like that... maybe it's just a myth! I can't imagine that anyone like that actually exists." {Everyone who had worked with Ms. No Open Strings Ever smirked, but didn't say anything.}

Then, we told today's masterclass teacher about the aforementioned woman and her Zero Tolerance For Open Strings Policy, and he laughed, saying, "Yes, I've heard that she's a bit of a looney."

So, we are all amused to have encountered such an interesting orchestral player, but relieved to be subsequently told that this is NOT in fact that norm in orchestral playing.

While those of us in the first violin section for this week's concert were working with the concertmaster of Baltimore, a violinist from the Philadelphia orchestra was running sectionals and masterclasses for the second violins. I slipped into their classroom and caught the end of their masterclass today after ours was over, because I kept hearing how amazing this woman was. Her sound is incredible! She was demonstrating the passage on the G string from the second page of the Sibelius concerto -- a section on which even great soloists can notoriously sound crunchy, pressed, or scrubby -- and her sound was absolutely silken but still with great articulation and clarity. I was blown away.. it made me want to pack my bags and move to Philly to study with this woman. I heard her telling the students that she and her husband (principal clarinetist in Philly) firmly believe that if you're not always challenging yourself to improve, and always working towards a goal, then you're probably sliding backwards. She's just passionate about developing a good sound, and never stops working towards making it even better.

She's funny, too; she was talking about tone and sound quality and then, mentioning her husband, said with a dismissive wave of the hand, "Clarinet! Like that's a hard instrument! Why would I want to hear the clarinet when I play the violin? But I always tell my husband I love his sound because it's not clarinet-y at all. I actually hate the clarinet."

And apparently, I am told that in sectionals earlier this week, regarding a passage in Rite of Spring she said:



[WARNING: READER DISCRETION ADVISED!]



"The strings won't really be heard in this section, because the brass will be playing so loud. This passage is every brass player's wet dream."

And then laughed, and said hastily, "I shouldn't have said that!"

Of course, anyone who's ever known a brass player knows exactly what she means. Brass players live for Mahler, Wagner, Strauss, and anything else on which they can blow their brains out in pursuit of playing louder than everyone else.

NOI, Day 26

I have to admit, I'm running low on energy and enthusiasm so far this week. It's good to know that at least I'm not the only one... I think everyone here is feeling it. Our conductor this week is great, but with a considerably more low-energy rehearsal style than last week's conductor. I thought I might fall asleep during this morning's rehearsal; it was just dragging by. I'm sitting third chair in the first violins for this concert, so I ought to be extremely motivated to practice my music. Maybe the motivation will come after a good night's sleep tonight!

Over lunch today, some of us developed a rating system for the three conductors we've had here. The categories included the usual: rehearsal technique, musicality, clarity of conducting, etc. However, we also added a "hotness" category (first place in that category went to our first conductor by unanimous vote), one for "accent" (German, American, and Italian to choose between) and, well, I contributed the category of "best or worst pants." You see, Conductor #1 wore extremely tight pants; you couldn't help but noticing the seams of his boxer briefs showing through. Conductor #2 wore pretty normal, middle-aged-man-jeans. And this week, conductor #3 has us all mystified by the utter absurdity of his pants, which billow out below his belt almost like a pair of swim trunks with air bubbles trapped inside. You'd have to see it to believe it.

{If you're wondering why those of us in the orchestra have been examining these men's pants so thoroughly, keep in mind that conductors stand on podiums, which put their pants right about at eye level for all of the musicians.}

My suitemate Rachel is leaving NOI tomorrow; she's having pain in her bow arm and can't play right now. Poor Rachel! We did a little farewell dinner with Brooke, Kristine, Rachel, and myself at a Thai place in nearby Silver Springs.

I think a tiny bit of each of us wishes we were headed home, too - Brooke to be with her husband, Kristine to see her boyfriend, and me, of course, to be with Nathan.

Yes indeed, it's the typical last-week-of-the-music-festival slump around here!

NOI, Day 25

Today was the first day of rehearsals for this week's program, Brahms Symphony No. 2 and Stravinsky's Rite of Spring. Our conductor this week is Carlo Rizzi, whose Italian accent makes me smile. The morning rehearsal involved a run-through of each piece - with minimal stopping only as necessary - to get a big picture idea of what we're working on.

We spent all of the first violin sectional this afternoon working on the Stravinsky. I liked the faculty violinist coaching our sectionals, but he let the violins get away with noodling around and practicing their parts while he was talking - I hate that. At one point five or six players were quietly figuring out some high note passages at the same time during rehearsal. I thought I might have a seizure. Seriously, rehearsal is not your personal practice time, and by the time you're in your twenties, there's no excuse for not knowing that. Best case scenario, come to rehearsal prepared and knowing your part. Worse case scenario, fake the spots you can't play yet, but don't figure out your notes and fingerings during rehearsal.

This probably makes it sound like I'm in a terrible mood... I'm really not! If you haven't experienced hearing groups of violinists noodle around on high passages they really can't play yet, you may not have a fully appreciation for how annoying it can be.

After sectionals I took a two hour nap. It's a toss up as to which part of my day was better, the Brahms or the nap, but I'm kind of leaning towards the nap.

NOI, Day 24

Ahh, Sunday, a day of rest. I slept until 10:00 or so - overslept and didn't go to church - and then went on a photo excursion around campus.

First I sought out the university's Memorial Chapel. Back in 1946, my grandmother, Marie Savage, was a student here at the University of Maryland. She was one of four students (you can read about it here) who approached the school's board of regents with an official letter, complete with 1,348 signatures of students, faculty, and staff, urging that a campus chapel be built.

The chapel was completed and dedicated in 1952.


It stands not far from the dorm I'm housed in for NOI.


It's beautiful...



And it's surrounded by gardens!



I also got some photos of the campus wildlife - namely, lots and lots of squirrels. There are two main varieties, with one subcategory. First, your typical cute grey squirrel:


Subcategory: grey squirrel with a tail in bad need of a conditioning treatment and some Rogaine.


Then, there are the black squirrels.


Not so cute. Looks sort of evil, doesn't he? And a bit like a giant rat.

After I wandered the campus {intrepid explorer and family-history-seeker that I am}, I met up with Esther around noon, and we took the Metro into D.C. to see the sights for a few hours.

We ate lunch next to a guy with the cutest puppy:


Saw some important stuff:







Went through several exhibits in the Museum of American History:

{Toscanini's batons}

{Julia Child's kitchen}

{needs no explanation}


And walked a lot.

{This is unavoidable in D.C.}

Then it was back to campus to practice Brahms and Stravinsky to prepare for tomorrow's rehearsals.

One week from today I'll be on my way home!

NOI, Day 23

I've assembled a few more great Michael Stern quotes from this morning's dress rehearsal:

To the violas and cellos:

"NO my little rhythm puppies! It's not together!"

To the first violins, working on the melody in the second movement of Mozart 41:

"You know how when you hold a baby, it's so cute, and it's so lovable, and it's so adorable? But what you don't know, what most of you probably can't quite imagine yet, is holding your own baby. It's completely different than other babies you've held. You hold a piece of yourself. It's suddenly become personal. That's how you must play this melody."

{I think we all teared up when he talked about that.}

In another section, he stopped us because of some rhythm problems and, having us begin again, he counted us in: "Eins und zwei und!" The rhythm was better that time, so he declared, "I see how it is... when I count in German you play together! In the concert, if your rhythm is poor, I will simply whisper to you in German and it will all be perfect."

{He then spent the next ten minutes of rehearsal speaking rapidly in German and offering the occasional translation for our benefit.}

Regarding the Mozart:

"The beginning of the first movement should be like taking a bath in C Major! We're going to take a bucket full of joy and dump it all over the audience!"

And:

"If this doesn't convince you there's a heaven, I don't know what to say..."

And concerning the fugue in the fourth movement, with genuine amazement and wonder:

"AAAAHHHH, the fugue is upside-down! How does he do it? How did he think of it?!"

So that was the rehearsal.

In the afternoon I ran some errands, and had both my afternoon and my faith in humanity utterly ruined by the driver that sideswiped me and sped away, leaving this:


{I know... not the end of the world. But still.}

Then, tonight was the concert. And I think my faith in humanity was restored.

Are you ready to be impressed?

Yes?

Okay.

Maestro Stern conducted tonight's concert from memory, without a score. The program:

Wagner, Rienzi Overture
Mozart, Symphony No. 41, "Jupiter"
Bartok, The Miraculous Mandarin
Strauss, Salome's Dance {Can we say 'bass oboe'? Very cool.}

{So much for second violin parts being easier; this was a killer program to play second violin on. For one thing, the Mozart is notoriously a difficult second violin part, especially the last movement. And the other pieces were filled with screaming high C-sharps above five ledger lines and other such atypical second violin writing.}

I was particularly impressed with Maestro Stern's knowledge of the Bartok score from memory - all those meter and tempo changes! He was phenomenal, and so engaged with the orchestra in every moment of each piece.

The audience was so enthusiastic -- one man even shouted "one more time!" after the Bartok. I think audiences can tell when conductors and players are fully committed to what they're doing, and our conductor inspired us towards that tonight.

Before the final piece on the program, the Strauss, Mr. Stern said a few words to the audience. I can't recall everything word for word, but it was something like this:

"If you read the papers much you've probably heard that music is in trouble because of cutbacks and all that. Well, look here on this stage. Music isn't in trouble. Musicians aren't in trouble. What's in trouble is the prioritizations that are sometimes made, and the people put in charge of making them."

{He said it much better than that, though.}

After the concert there was a reception for all of us. Which reminds me: just before the concert Ting-Ting declared, "After the concert my goal is to go straight to the reception and eat twenty pieces of chicken!" I'm not sure if she met her quota or not, but we did get a picture:



And Brooke and I got a picture with Michael Stern:



And here's one with my stand-partner Esther:



After the concert Brooke and I talked a bit.

Brooke: I read your blog religiously now.
Sarah: Religiously! Does that mean you cross yourself before and after reading it?
Brooke: No, it means I pray, 'God, please help Sarah because she's such a horrifyingly bad blogger!'
Sarah: Hey, you should start a blog!
Brooke: No; my life isn't very interesting. Sadly, coming to 'band camp' here is the most interesting thing I've done in a long time.

{Perhaps it's the most interesting thing I've done in a long time, too. I've been posting daily!}

To conclude, you should probably listen to the genius of the fourth movement of Mozart's "Jupiter" Symphony.


{No, ours was hardly a period instrument performance like the one in this video!}

And can I just say that nobody writes symphonically for the bassoon like Mozart? I love the bassoon parts in his symphonies. If you didn't listen to the second movement I posted yesterday, go listen to it, and enjoy the bassoon parts.

Oh Mozart. Thank you for making the world a more beautiful place.

NOI, Day 22

Today was a double rehearsal day; full orchestra in both the morning and the afternoon rather than sectional rehearsals or masterclasses in the afternoon. Tomorrow will be the dress rehearsal in the morning and the concert in the evening.

I was pretty tired today. I snoozed long past when I had originally planned to get up this morning, and when the day's rehearsals were finally done at 4:30 I came back to my room and napped for an hour or so.

My favorite thing we've been playing this week is probably the Mozart (Symphony No. 41), although I like everything on the program. The second movement of the symphony is sublime.



And now, I'm ready for more than just a nap. Goodnight!

NOI, Day 21

I'm continuing to enjoy playing under Michael Stern. Incidentally, I can't get over the striking resemblance to his father, Isaac Stern. These pictures don't really do the similarity justice, but you get the idea:




A few good quotes from today:

"Don't anticipate that sforzando [i.e. get loud too early], but when you get to it, flaunt it, baby, flaunt it."

To the violas:

"This needs to be disgusting, raunchy, dirty, offensive. So basically, play with your good viola sound."

He talked to us today about having the sense that we're all putting our sound into the center of the stage, actively contributing and creating the ongoing sense of pulse of the ensemble rather than simply following the conductor and the section leaders (although of course those things are important).

"This" - and here he beat time with his baton briefly - "is the enemy of true pulse. I would like to be able to just look at you and smile and have you play this melody beautifully."

We're playing Mozart's "Jupiter" Symphony, and Maestro Stern made the decision to reduce the orchestra in numbers today to make a more classical sound more attainable. The eight basses we needed for Mahler 1 last week are just a bit much for Mozart, not surprisingly! He was apparently under a bit of pressure not to reduce the strings at all simply so that everyone gets the opportunity to play, but today he finalized the decision to cut back on players. Not before looking at the full bass section threateningly yesterday, though, and saying, "Don't make me cut you!" Then, realizing it made him sound like a gang member, repeating it with a laugh and an ominous expression. Today when he dismissed half the basses and various other string players, he declared, "It's time to reduce. It's not that I don't like you all. We just need to do it." Then, pondering his first statement, he added: "And not just reduce, but we should also recycle and reuse." Then he told the now-unneeded string players, "Go enjoy a crunchy wholesome bagel, or perhaps a refreshing beverage." It must be that Harvard education; he never uses a small word where he could use a longer, better one, and he's always quite articulate.

Another piece on this week's program is Wagner's Overture to "Rienzi." In rehearsal today as he was working with the brass section, he said,

"It's pretty good. It's together. It's tight like shutting the door of a Hyundai..." - he smacked his hands together in a demonstration - "But I want it to be tight like shutting the door of a BMW." - he pulled his hands together tightly as if drawn by an invisible force - "Be a gas-guzzling German automobile!"

We're also playing Bartok's The Miraculous Mandarin this week, a [quite unusual] pantomime ballet now usually performed simply as a concert suite. Maestro Stern has from time to time offered insight into the plot and action and how it relates to the music. The nature of the ballet being rather scandalous, he always pauses and says, "How can I say this in as PC a way as possible..." and then comes up with something quite eloquent. He described the youth being lured upstairs by a prostitute something like this:

"There's this youth. And being young, he has a certain paucity of corporeal worldly experience. Which is not to say that he hasn't wanted certain things, but just that he hasn't yet achieved that particular life goal..."

{The entire orchestra applauded his well-chosen words.}

He of course knows that we're all adults here at the festival, but seems to find a certain humor in treating us like impressionable young people nonetheless. Yesterday he made a comment about getting a beer, and then hastened to add, "I mean, no, drinking is bad for your health and none of you should ever do it!"

Time is flying by here, and so are all the notes on the hundreds of pages of music they keep throwing our way. Ligeti, Faure, Mahler, Pintscher, and Beethoven are behind me. Bartok, Strauss, Wagner, and Mozart taunt me with their tricky passages this week. And next week it's on to Brahms and Stravinsky!